


Raise Your Hands to the Sky

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Multi, coughcough respawn, don't worry they're not really dead forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:05:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rebuilding the world from the sky down, or rather the ground up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raise Your Hands to the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from my tumblr. Wrote this when Skyblocks was relevant and now its a year late haha.

Miles above the endless void, the three of them come into existence within the sky.

They are confused at first, mildly disoriented and dizzy from whatever trip they just took; a book lies squarely in their laps and it is the first time they ever utter the word skyblock together.

The trio of misfits became friends somehow, someway, day by day, falling into some sort of a pattern of normalcy despite the absurdity of their whole situation. Though distant at first, the confines of their now daily life forced them together in ways that might have never happened in their old world. After all, it takes a herculean effort to try and ignore the only two other sentient creatures on their small plot of land.

They would share stories of their old life, Sjin would recall tales of golden wheat as far as the eyes can see while passing out dinner; dinner that he managed to grow only due to his experience tilling the land for its bounty. Xephos would go on tangents about machinery, sprouting off words that Duncan only half-understands, and the stars, his knowledge of almost every legend and story of the stars giving much respite from the monotonous nights by their beds. Duncan would enchant the others by recalling his many disastrous scientific ventures, like that one time he spent months tracking an escaped clone.

It was odd in a way, they sometimes mused together, squashed into the other in their too small single bed [the sheep jumped off the edge again], they could remember such intricate details about their old life, yet none of them could recall any of their past friends or family.

The first time Sjin tried his hand on carving some statues to decorate the place, he ended up with some grey alien that bared no semblance to anyone he ever knew. [“Who or what the heck is that Sjin?”] He couldn’t explain how the rock’s arrogant smile and scruffy stubble made his chest hurt when it made no sense even to himself. He found a home for it anyway, built a small stage for it near their house, and in a fit of inspiration, gave it a block of dirt. It felt oddly fitting and everytime Sjin looked at it he felt a sad sort of happiness, glancing at it every morning the trio woke up.

Xephos was busy in the grasslands, setting up another one of Lalna’s Notch-forsaken tree farms, hands all oiled up and knees deep into machinery, when out of nowhere another animal spawned nearby, spooking another pig off the edge, its oink trailing off as it fell into the void. His eyes didn’t register the new animal at first, but rather its chirps, or rather hoots. He finally looked around and saw the brown bird -an owl his mind supplied- roosting in a rubber tree. Through well practiced motions even he didn’t know, Xephos managed to convince the bird to stand on his arm and paused to admire the newest addition to their farm family. When he introduced him -her?- to the others during dinner, Xephos felt a flutter of pride in his chest and they toasted their first flying member and on Xephos’ advice, christened the owl, Mr. Owl. It just felt right to the spaceman, and Mr. Owl agreed, nipping cooing from his hastily built perch.  
  
Lalna didn’t mind not knowing who he had in his past life, after all he’d made two new perfectly amazing friends here, there was no point worrying over the things that couldn’t be solved by a quick hit with the hammer or a craft on the computer. He never was quite sure why most of the things he crafted came out purple though, whether he was paying attention or not, he was sure his favorite color was blue.

The trip of misfits expanded their land to include seas and mountains and rivers and valleys and a whole other slew of biomes ranging from majestically beautiful [Sjin’s golden fields of grain] to garishly ugly [Xephos’ experiment with colorful bees]. Years past in their ever growing world. The day Lalna could no longer pretend to be able to read the tiny print in the skyblock’s book was the day things started to slow down and they knew their age was catching up to them.

Then came a day where the trio woke up in their bed together [now greatly larger and much softer] and just knew. The book had been glinting faintly from their bedside table now, all quests checked off long ago, all quests except one, but that no longer mattered now. They talked and laughed, huddled together in their sheets, under the roof of a masterfully crafted house, receding hairlines with their white hairs just not managing to hide their many laugh lines etched onto their warm faces.

The book started to hum softly and with a bright flash of light, the bed was now empty, the last notes of their shared laughter still evident in the morning air.  


Outside the sun was beginning to dawn, casting its golden rays throughout the world they had given their blood, sweat, and tears for. The birds chirped, the cows mooed, the plants rose to meet the sunlight; life continued on outside of those well-worn, well-loved walls.

And not much later, another story would begin…

Honeydew has joined the game.  
Xephos has joined the game.


End file.
